


Asarik's Story

by xxSilverChaos



Series: NaNoWriMo Stories [1]
Category: Norse Mythology, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Thor Movies, Gen, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Loki Does What He Wants, References to Norse Mythology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:53:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxSilverChaos/pseuds/xxSilverChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor AU : Loki goes to Midgard searching for his foretold kingdom and instead finds something worth fighting for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> NaNoWriMo 2012 : Incomplete at the moment. I'll be working on it around my other Avengers stories. Original Characters play an important role in this story based off Norse mythology. Not Beta'd, sorry for that in advance. I've got the story in separate pieces so far. I'll be posting each chapter in an alternating P.O.V. between Loki and Asarik.

Maybe it was foolish of him to sit here and dream of a world he would one day rule. The walls around him had become a prison and despite the golden shine and the beautiful galaxy filled sky, he felt trapped. As if the world was slowly suffocating him. He hated it. Hated his gold gilded cage and those within it who seemed to wish to forget his existence. Such disdain in their gazes as they met with his.

What good were lavish things when the one thing he most wanted, recognition, respect, were denied to him? Here he was nothing and yet out there, somewhere in the recesses of space was a world meant for him and him alone. He knew this, felt it with such certainty. One day he would seek it out and find it. Hold it within his grasp and claim it, ruling with an iron fist over its people.

They would bow to him and greet him as their king and he would show them the true way. It would be a place where the Allfather would have no say. Odin was a fool and was weak, leading Asgard into ruin. 'But no, not I. I would rule a great king.'

A rarely seen smile was curling on his lips, the one sign of his true pleasure. These thoughts always brought a smile to him. They were all he had to look forward to in this hellish place.

Thor's voice was loud, booming just beyond his door as it called to him. Summoned him as one would beckon forth a pet and Loki frazzled, fighting back the urge to growl like a common animal, snapped from his thoughts as he had been. Instead he straightened, standing from his bed and smoothing out his leathers just as his door banged open and his oaf of a brother walked in.

"Loki! Brother, I bring joyous news this day!"

Loki raised a delicate black brow at the words, wondering what had brought this on, but Thor was not allowed to continue as the Allfather himself found his way into Loki's chambers.

"We will be traveling to Midgard, to meet with a great leader who has requested our presence there. That they know at all of us, is a mystery that will be answered. Your brother and I will return in three days time. Until then, be near your mothers side, Loki."

He did not grind his teeth as he so did want to do, instead bowing forward his head as the Allfather swept out, Thor following at his side like a beloved pet. The two leaving behind the dark haired boy in silence.

It was always this way. Thor would be the one to accompany father, leaving Loki in their wake as if he was not one of them. A member of the royal family. It sickened him, but still he said nothing.

Turning back to his bed, he settled down within it once again, the childish impulse to pull the blankets over his head followed through with as he stewed to himself in the darkness.

There he would stay for hours until the servants of the palace called for dinner.

Joining his mother at the table many hours later was a silent affair, but it was a peaceful quiet. Loki thought his mother was perhaps the only part of this life he would be sad to leave behind. The woman had only ever been kind to him and he knew he would miss her soft spoken voice and gentle touch.

Eating, perhaps a better phrase would be picking at, the food on his plate, he avoided the queen's gaze, knowing he would only see silent worry and apologies in her eyes. He was not in the mood to be treated with the sight of them. Instead he finished, bowed to his mother and with a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, departed.

It would be easier to ignore his father's absence if he kept himself busy, he knew. There was no point in wallowing any longer.

Leading out from the castle was a short path that led past his mother's garden to the training ground. It was here where he found himself a short hour before sundown, fingering the knives in their sheaths at his side.

It was best to do this when the light was at it's lowest, bringing about a more difficult challenge as it stole his sight and drew warped shadows in his surroundings. Grasping the sharp blades he began, tossing them from himself in intricate sweeps of his arm, twisting and turning this way and that as he lost himself to the technique that was as ingrained into him as breathing.

Exhilarating, that was how he would describe the sensations that traveled through him with each movement. This was when he felt the most alive. Bettering himself, enhancing his mind and body, training that could one day prove vital in his intents to escape.

There were no 'ifs' any longer. He had long made up his mind. Thousands of years in Thor's shadow had turned him angry and jaded, there would be no forgiveness, only retribution.

As darkness spread over the land, Loki returned to his bedroom and after a moment of stretching languidly, he sat, assuming a meditating stance. It was too early yet for sleep and had much on his mind that needed contemplating.

The first of which was the Allfather's sudden departure to Midgard, a place he'd long ago learned of and visited, much a distant memory. It was a home for feeble-minded simpletons, who foolishly believed in gods and...

That someone, considered a great leader, had found a way to contact Odin was an outstanding display of intellect. Perhaps his opinion on these mortals was not as accurate as he had assumed. A need to visit this place was slowly beginning to kindle within him, his mind racing as his heart beat excitedly in his chest.

Could this Midgard be the planet he had been searching for? The one that someday would be his to rule? The very thought thrilled him to the core and somehow he knew that this world would play a very important role in his near future.

Standing, he disrobed and redressed in a simple tunic, tucking himself into bed with ideas of ruling and grandeur in his head.

Yes, this Midgard did indeed need studying.

-TS-

Loki smiled as he turned in a small circle, his gaze taking in every inch of this world. Midgard, the place where his Father and brother currently dwelled, hiding away from mortal eyes in a place far from here. He wondered if they had any idea he had come to visit. Perhaps they had sensed the bifrost. No matter, there was not a chance of them finding him so quickly. He had chosen a remote but familiar place. One, that for a time, he and the Aesir had called home. The place was just as just as he remembered, the forests vast and the sea wide and calling to him.

Smirking, he turned his back on it and looked opposite into the distance where a human dwelling could be seen. A castle that failed to grasp the same brilliance that Asgard had. Although, it reached high for a mortal construct, standing proud on a far land just beyond the seemingly endless forest. He wondered what he could find there, what kind of weak mortal dare call himself king. Shifting, he allowed his shape to morph and change, the sleek lines of his tall frame bending and growing, till in his place stood proudly a stallion of unmatched likeness on this mortal plane. His disguise was flawless.

Walking forward into the forest, he adjusted to the familiar senses of a creature, his human mind hidden behind glinting green eyes. Wandering the forested area, he was surprised by the untouched wilderness and felt a slight kind of pride in it. Something about this place called to him, the magic in his blood singing. It was liberating. He trotted and then came to a halt to stood perfectly still, enjoying the sense of freedom the forest gave him. A small stream led upward, draining into the ocean from somewhere in the forest. He decided to follow it after taking a cool refreshing drink from its waters.

It led him deep into the heart of the land, his hooves thudding gently against the ground. Soon enough a rich scent filtered into his senses. Nature at it's finest, he admitted to himself as he went towards the meadow. As he neared it, a raised root cracked loudly beneath his hooves, unable to take the sudden weight. The break startled him just slightly, though he was reluctant to admit to it and he was not the only one it seemed as the scent of mortal and something familiar wafted towards him.

Darting back, he moved around the edge of the clearing instead, keeping a careful eye on the male he now saw standing there, searching for his presence.

After time had passed in silence, the mortal turned away and Loki felt relief that he would not have to deal with this human. He had been enjoying himself, after all. It would be a shame to have that go to waste. Circling around the meadow, he worked up to a canter, leaping gracefully over brambles and knotted roots. His swift movements cast him as a darting shadow and it was not until the panicked neigh reached his ears that he slowed.

Turning sharply at the sound, his gaze landed upon a mare and her rider. The mortal from before, he mused as he watched the human calm her before slipping away into the trees. Finding himself suddenly curious, he followed after them. The fear the other felt was lost to him, his focus more on how the mare picked up speed.

A race, he thought, causing him to grin in his mind. He sped up his canter quickly becoming a gallop as he raced after them. His form slipping between with an unearthly grace. He flew passed them, his hooves closing ground and disappeared into the tree line, leaving them behind as the exhilaration of being able to just let go like this once more set in.

There was no fleeing for his life here, no pain and agony of being caught. The memories of his time with Svaðilfari pressed at the edge of his thoughts, with them the familiar and terrible feeling of loss that had his previous cheer fleeing and leaving him empty, but for the cold anger and determination that had led him to Midgard.

His kingdom awaited him.


	2. The Forest of Navir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travel with care through The Forest of Navir, for it is said that the Gods dwell there...

Riding horse back through the forest of Navir, cloak swaying softly after him as his stead, Volin, trotted down the worn path in the light of the waking sun was Asarik.

Beiti, his father was once more at sea, leaving him alone within the palace kingdom with his grandfather, Gor, who did nothing but sit and brood for hours. Bored at his bedside, Asarik had excused himself and left the village of Beitstad, out into the forest surrounding his father's land.

He wanted to be alone, enjoying the endless wonder so natural to the forest. It was here he felt most at home. Lost among the other creatures of myth. He glanced down at his hand, the light blue tinge still visible beneath the long draping sleeves of his robes.

He quickly glanced away, focusing instead on the rustling of the underbrush, rabbits no doubt. He would have to catch one for the morning meal, but food could wait. He did not feel hunger yet.

He was smiling faintly as he gazed up at the sunbathed leaves that shaded the path his mare was treading. The puddles of light upon the ground leading his way to the other side of the forest and out to the sea. The sound of water could be heard even from this distance.

Such peace was a great distraction from his worrisome thoughts. Memories plagued him, of a woman with an ethereal beauty, holding him close, calling him my child. She whispered to him in his dreams, urging him carefully to an unknown something.

Thinking on it now, brought an ache to his temples and he frowned beneath the hood of his cloak, raising a hand to rub at them. His horse slowed, bringing him from his troubled thoughts. Before them stood a familiar clearing, a meadow of wild flowers that scented the air sweetly. Sliding from his horses saddle, he allowed the creature to roam freely. The mare was loyal and would return when called.

Slipping his hood down, he gazed at his favorite thinking spot. Not much had changed since the last time he'd visited. Shifting forward, he stepped along a well hidden trail, leading him towards a small stream. There he sat, eyes closing as he leaned back against the base of a tall tree. Around him the sounds of life seemed to amplify and he felt as if he could breath again, away from the stifling hold of the village.

No one cared to think about how difficult life was in the palace. So many envied him, the unknown son of the king, come to claim his rightful place among them. If only they knew the truth, brought here by force, trapped like a bird in a gilded cage. It was maddening.

The snapping of a twig in the distance brought him from his recollections and stormy blue eyes opened, glancing sharply to his right as he straightened. No one had ever come upon this place he frequented and the thought of someone intruding in his sanctuary was greatly displeasing.

Standing after a moment of silence, he became aware of the lateness of the hour and the lack of sound in the forest. He must have dozed off, losing track of time as he soaked in some much needed rest. Pulling his hood back up, shadowing his face, he whistled lowly, summoning his horse.

The mare trotted forth from the trees at the edge of the meadow behind him. A swift moving shadow darting between trees seemed to startle her as she reared up, the sound of her fearful neigh echo'd in the clearing. Eyes widening, Asarik attempted to calm her with soothing words as hands grasped for her reins.

Something was coming, the shadows around the clearing flickering eerily. The mare shifted uneasily and he did his best to keep her calm as he pulled himself up onto the saddle and urged her forward. The forest was never a safe place to dwell after hours, but that such unnatural stillness could exist was frightening to him as well.

He had heard many a tale of beasts within this place, decent upon the land from the heavens and hel alike.

Riding quickly through the trees, he didn't dare glance back as the pounding of hooves followed after them just moments after their hastened retreat. He wondered if he was being pursued by one of his father's enemies and the fear he felt increased.

He had nothing to defend himself with nor did he know what he was up against. In this sense, he was at a major disadvantage. What could he do? The sound of the other grew nearer and he knew they would be upon him in minutes. He pushed his horse faster, but at this pace he would never be able to out run them.

Yet it seemed he didn't have to as the shadow darted past him. A beautiful black stallion, the likes of which he had never seen, it's sleek mane billowing outwards inches from his fingertips. It moved with an elegant grace, fast as the wind as it disappeared into the tree line ahead of them.

He blinked in disbelief, following after it with his eyes. The feeling slowly transformed into a sense of awe. Had he not known better, he would have thought he'd imagined it for surely such majestic beauty could not exist, but for creatures of myth. Without his realizing it, his mare had slowed to a trot, his sense of urgency long lost.

Instead he wondered with overwhelming curiosity about the horse he'd seen. Would he be able to find it again? He was tempted for a moment or two to follow after it. He had been warned never to tread from this path. Knew that danger would follow and the chances of losing himself in the twisting branches and overgrown roots were high.

He was drawn from his thoughts by a familiar voice drifting down to him from farther up the path. It seemed that his father's men had come in search of him. Turning away from the trees, he continued on his way up the path, glancing back only once before forcing his attention away.

"Lord Asarik!"

The voice now had a face as the male came around the corner, urging his brown stead further. The man, a knight in his father's court whom had been assigned to him, seemed relieved.

"We have been searching for you. Where did you disappear to?"

He didn't answer, instead directing his mare around the obstacle he had become. The knight seemed to frown for a moment, before the smile on his face bloomed and he laughed.

"Has my father returned?"

He asked him, glancing in his direction, pleased at the new expression on the others face. Worry didn't suit the man, he told himself, it had nothing to do with feeling guilty for causing said worry.

"I'm afraid not. He sent word that the sons of Nor have moved closer to the borders of ..."

Sighing, he tried not to think of his dear cousins who at this very moment were making their way closer to the kingdom. Instead he eyed the group of men that had accompanied Arcturus, only a few of whom he recognized.

"Arcturus, how is my mother?"

The knight looked up from his tale, aware now that the other hadn't been listening and gave a slight sigh.

"She is as well as can be expected, childbirth has made her weak."

The King's wife had given birth to a son just weeks ago, leaving her bedridden. The kingdom had been overjoyed for their king and celebrations rang out through the village streets. A new prince and an actual heir to ascend their throne. They were pleased. No one came right out and said to him these things, but he knew. After all, Lady Goi had simply picked him out of pity.

Not for himself, but of her own, the lack of ability to give the great king an heir, he had been a gift instead to her brother once his usefulness had been wrung from him.

He felt emptiness and cold as he thought these words, the prickling beneath his skin beginning anew and he was careful to keep his cloak pulled well over his arms. The sensation was one he was slowly growing accustom to. The blue of his skin deepened and he drew in a quick breath, heart beat speeding up at the sight of it.

He saw nothing, he told himself quietly, ignoring the guards eyes on him and instead continued on towards the castle. The thoughts on his mind now revolving about the woman in his dreams. Her deep blue skin, rough with lines, and her pure white hair flowing about her like silk.

Who was she? What was she to him that she called to him so desperately?

The castle loomed ahead as they passed through the village. It was quiet, the people long since gone to bed as the curfew went into effect. The hour had gotten late and the sun had left the sky, the moon glittering in the darkness.

Arcturus lead them past the guards stationed at the gates and to the stables, leaving the others to return to their posts, before turning to him. The previous worry in the others eyes had returned and he stepped closer as Asarik dismounted. He removed the saddle from his mare, brushing a hand over her flank to distract himself from the look the man was sure to be leveling at him.

"Asarik, you know your father asked you not to leave the castle again."

The familiar words brought anger and pain with them and he clenched his teeth so as not to allow venomous words to slip past. He would not do that to the male who had worked so hard to become his friend, instead he turned on his heel and stalked away, the other following him.

"The guards have been informed of this, Asarik. How did you get past them?"

It had been easy, so painfully easy to sneak past them as their backs turned, a simple trick as a distraction had them running, leaving the front gates defenseless. It was stupid really, how easy it was to be rid of them. Impenetrable fortress, indeed.

He did not say so though, instead choosing to ignore the others words. The male took no offense in this, by now used to this cold apathy from him. Instead he continued on, speaking to a boy who would no doubt be listening with only half a mind. He never had been one for paying attention to things that did not directly concern him.


End file.
